It might as well be, a figment of my imagination,
The audience will be killed off, when my play is over,
Is there really an audience, if the actor can’t experience it?
You all are there, as long as I am here.
Everything might be designed solely for me,
You exist the way you do, just for me to perceive it.
I know I am alive, as long as I live,
There is nothing else for me to know, when I won’t be me.
Maybe sky is just blue for me, and the blue you see, is my pink.
The real questions of life are not meant to be answered,
It is a beautiful thing, that you will never see what I see.